


Fly Traps

by gwennolmarie



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Dancing, M/M, Slow Dancing, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Waltzing, consideration of infidelity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-09
Updated: 2019-03-09
Packaged: 2019-11-14 06:00:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18046856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gwennolmarie/pseuds/gwennolmarie
Summary: Dutch glances down to the older man’s collar, suddenly overwhelmed.Their pace is slow, the movements hardly taxing.So why is his heart beating so hard?





	Fly Traps

**Author's Note:**

  * For [inconocible](https://archiveofourown.org/users/inconocible/gifts).



The contrast of older hands with calluses established years ago by the working hands of a child and the softer hands, younger and newer to the gripping of guns and other tools of survival is pleasant.

“Move your right foot back… Your _right,_ Dutch.”

“That was my right, dammit!” Dutch hisses.

“Annabelle, at least, will be able to tell the difference,” Hosea teases, “Maybe she oughta lead instead.”

“That’s another thing!” Dutch gripes as he readjusts his grip of Hosea’s hand, “How am I supposed to know how to lead if you’re teaching me to _follow?”_

Hosea rolls his eyes and fixes their hands, squeezing once in warning for the younger man to stop screwing it up.

Dutch’s lips twitch to the side in an unconscious pout.

Hosea presses forward with his leading leg and there’s a brief moment of their bodies grazing in a long line of heat through their thin clothes in the summer warmed evening air.

Dutch inhales sharply and stumbles back.

“Good!” Hosea grins sharply, “ _That_ was your right foot.”

Dutch grumbles unintelligibly and flexes his hand in Hosea’s hold.

The hand spread-fingered across his shoulder blade is a steady pressure to focus on.

Hosea moves them through the next step, Dutch’s feet awkwardly stumbling to follow.

“Stop looking down,” Hosea murmurs.

“How am I supposed to know where my feet go if I can’t look down?”

“Just think of the beat and-”

“What beat?” Dutch gripes, “We don’t have music out here.”

Hosea sighs and pulls back slightly to look around at the mostly empty riverbank where they’ve made camp.

The river disappearing on the horizon painted pink and gold by the setting sun.

The faint flickering of lightning bugs in the field on the other side of the slow-running water.

Hosea pulls them back together and hums.

Low and long-unheard songs that haunt him from faded memories.

Dutch glances up from their leather-bound feet and blinks widely at the older man.

Hosea smiles softly.

“Count in your head when I tap your back,” The older man murmurs.

“Alright,” Dutch whispers then straightens his back when Hosea’s fingers slide a little further down, cupping the bottom of his shoulder-blade.

The blond starts to hum again.

Step-tap.

Step-tap.

Step-tap

Dutch’s legs stutter trying to keep the tempo and the younger man grimaces.

Hosea’s hand gently squeezes his.

“It’s fine, Dutch.”

Dutch frowns and resets his feet, just to Hosea’s right.

“We can go slower,” Hosea says, “Just focus on me.”

Dutch glances down at his feet then back up to Hosea’s kind expression.

Ever-patient with him, even in his most hot-headed and immaturely impulsive moments.

Dutch swallows and nods to show his readiness.

Hosea starts to hum again, a different melody, sways slightly, side-to-side.

Looking at-ease with himself.

Step-tap.

Step-tap.

Dutch almost falters but something in his body seems to move faster than his brain and somehow his foot makes it to the right position.

“Good,” Hosea whispers between breaths before picking up the humming in the next second.

Dutch glances over Hosea’s face, studying lines and marks he usually isn’t close enough to see.

Faint scars, even fainter freckles.

The way the older man’s lashes curl more towards the center of his eyes, straighter in the outer corners.

The dent in the center of his chin.

The mark under his eye.

Dutch glances down to the older man’s collar, suddenly overwhelmed.

Their pace is slow, the movements hardly taxing.

So why is his heart beating so hard?

“Think you can go faster?”

Dutch’s throat catches and he barely glances up before nodding.

Hosea’s humming quickens and so do their steps.

The back of Dutch’s neck feels hot, his head feels like it’s filled with air, pressing outwards on his skull.

He curls his fingers into the fabric at the shoulder of Hosea’s button down and lets himself get lost in counting steps.

Gradually they slow down and Hosea pulls him a little closer before manipulating Dutch’s arm and using the momentum to do an overhead twirl.

Dutch snorts in amusement while being spun only to have all mirth leave him as Hosea reels him back in and the space between their bodies is suddenly negligible.

It has Dutch’s heart beating faster than a hummingbird’s wings.

“Hosea…” Dutch whispers.

The older man’s Adam’s Apple bobs with a hard swallow.

Dutch looks up to meet Hosea’s gaze and sees a heat there, unfamiliar.

Hosea’s hand returns to his back.

Lower.

Just cupping the bottom of his ribcage, the older man’s thumb curling around his side.

A solid grip on him.

“Hosea?” Dutch whispers again.

The air feels hot and dangerous.

Like it’s filled with static.

Like they might get shocked.

They move at the same time, Dutch aiming to get closer and Hosea starting to pull away.

“Hosea, I-”

“Don’t,” The older man murmurs, “Don’t, you have Annabelle and I… I have Bessie.”

Dutch is on the balls of his feet from stretching towards Hosea in his effort to follow.

He steps forward.

Sees Hosea breathe in sharply.

“Let me try leading,” Dutch says.

“Dutch, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Hosea says, glancing down at the minimal space between them.

Dutch squeezes his hand lightly.

“Allow me this, please?”

Hosea huffs quietly then moves his hand from Dutch’s waist to the top of the younger’s shoulder.

Dutch, in turn, ghosts his hand down Hosea’s chest, then around to his shoulder-blade.

Dutch steps forward.

Hosea steps back.

They fall into a rhythm of music unheard.

Cicadas buzz and the wind bristles the pine-needles in the trees and the whole dance they don’t look away.

Or maybe can’t.

Caught in a trap of heat like honey, helpless like the greedy flies they are.

Too tempted by the precarious and unpredictable.

Dutch slows them, stops Hosea with a press into the flesh of the older man’s back.

Steps closer.

Hosea’s breathing is quicker than it oughta be.

Dutch aligns their legs, slipping one leather boot between the older man’s shoes.

The inner sides of their thighs graze through summer-weight cotton.

“Dutch,” Hosea murmurs, chest rising and falling heavily.

Dutch sucks on his lower lip, uncertain.

Uses his hold on Hosea’s hand to pull the older man closer.

Touching sternums to knees.

Dutch’s breath stutters and Hosea’s hand slips around the nape of his neck.

“We can’t,” Hosea whispers, “I want to, Dutch, please believe me, but we _can’t.”_

Dutch’s lips part, press together.

His jaw cocks to one side and he grits his teeth.

Pulls away and starts towards their bedrolls.

“Don’t get mad,” Hosea says as he trails behind the younger.

“What’s the biggest thing holdin’ you back? Bessie?” Dutch asks.

“And Annabelle, and you throwin’ your engagement down the drain for me.”

Dutch huffs a miserable laugh and lowers himself onto his bedroll.

“That all? If it weren’t… Say there was another time, and I never met Annabelle and you never met Bessie?”

“...Don’t bother with ‘what ifs’, Dutch,” Hosea mutters and gets settled on his own bedroll, “We ain’t the kind to be granted wishes on shootin’ stars.”

**Author's Note:**

> wrow long time no write sowwy 
> 
> tumblr @gwennolmarie
> 
> <33333


End file.
